


Believe

by Mazarin221b



Series: Comes Back Around [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Clubbing, Everybody Bottoms, Everybody Tops, Everybody is sort of dommy, Everybody is sort of subby, FaceFucking, Karaoke, M/M, better choices this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14131995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Part 2 of Karma - Yuuri has a few regrets.Fuck. It’s only been a month since they met in that club, and Yuuri can feel the imprint of Victor’s fingers on his hips like it was five minutes ago. He shifts in his seat as the music starts, the crowd starting to yell and harass him as he stands behind the mic. Victor, ever the showman, takes it all in stride, bowing low and grinning as the DJ introduces him and a sharp, familiar, overly-processed synthesizer blares into the night.Prince.Yuuri shakes his head. Prince? Is he serious?





	Believe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just dinking around until I get the go ahead for my next big fic, which is for my Fandom Trumps Hate bidder. No beta this time, so DM me if you see an error somewhere and I'll try to fix it!

Yuuri wipes the sweat from the back of his neck and surreptitiously tries to clean his hand on his jeans without Phichit noticing. The club is sweltering on this June night, air conditioning barely making a dent in the humidity that steams the windows and leaves the people on the dancefloor shimmering under the lights.

“I swear to you if I hear that stupid King JJ song one more time on this tour I might cut his laces,” Phichit gripes as he swirls a stick around his drink. “It’s bad enough he used it for his short that one season, now we have to hear it twice a week instead of twice a month.”

Yuuri snorts a laugh. Even now, almost four years later, JJ is still JJ, and his turn on the Stars on Ice tour has been…interesting, to say the least.

“Oh shush. I’ve watched The King and the Skater…oh…” Yuuri taps his finger on his chin, “Twenty six times. At least. Plus an entire season of hearing it.”

“And you loved every single second.” Phichit sighs, and then leans back in the booth. He levels Yuuri with a stare, one Yuuri knows is going to lead to a lecture, a lecture he’s been successfully avoiding this entire summer so far. “Soooo. Let’s talk about the fact Victor joined the European leg of the tour.”

“Let’s not.”

Phichit raises an eyebrow. “Then let’s talk about the fact you’ve not said a single word to him this entire week, despite the fact he’s been staring at you across the rink like a love-starved stalker.”

“That’s his problem, not mine.” Truth be told, Yuuri has felt the burn of every one of those gazes, the intensity of Victor’s obvious longing and desire sliding down his spine and making him break out in goosebumps. He’s had to hide in the locker room any number of times when it got too much, rehearsals a nightmare of missed cues and distracted jumps as he catches himself watching Victor watching him. He can’t seem to shake that last night they’d had in Rome, and the way Victor begged for a second chance, the heat of his body seared into Yuuri’s soul.

He’d barely had the strength to leave after their passionate encounter in the VIP suite, but the reminder of his own wounded pride gave Yuuri the last second resolve he’d needed to twist the knife deep. The flash of pain in Victor’s eyes hadn’t felt like a triumph, though; he’d barely made it out of the front door and into an Uber before regret hit hard, overflowing and crushingly bitter.  Yuuri takes a sip of his drink and tries to push thoughts of Victor out of his head.

Phichit just sighs and rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s going to be your problem if you don’t get your head out of your a—oh hell yes, please tell me they’re doing karaoke here. Please.”

Yuuri looks toward where Phichit is staring in surprised delight and yes, right next to the DJ table are club employees setting up a large screen and a mic stand. Fuck, no one told him it was going to be karaoke night, he just wanted to get out of his hotel room for a bit, try to shake off the constant buzz of nerves mixed with arousal he’d felt since Victor showed up at the rink in London on Monday. It’s now late Saturday night, Yuuri is four drinks in, and there is no way he’s going to survive what he knows will come next: Phichit Chulanot mixed with alcohol mixed with karaoke usually equals embarrassment for Yuuri and way too many incriminating Instagram stories.

“No. Oh no. I refuse.”

“Hah, that’s what you always say. Come on Katsuki, you know it’ll be fun. It always is.” Phichit wiggles his eyebrows, but before he can drag Yuuri up to pick out a song and get a place in line, Yuuri catches sight of a horrifyingly familiar head of platinum hair standing next to the DJ, with an equally familiar curly head next to him.

“Sit down,” Yuuri hisses. He grabs Phichit’s arm and yanks him back into the corner booth they’re in, and hopes against hope they haven’t been seen.

“Yuuri what the fuck?”

“Look,” Yuuri says, and tries to subtly gesture toward the booth. Phichit follows Yuuri’s head nod and understanding dawns. Mixed with…guilt? “Wait, hang on, did you know they would be here?” Yuuri can feel panic rising in his chest. “Did you _tell him_?”

Phichit raises both hands in a placating gesture. “No!  I swear I didn’t! I just…maybe told Mila. Who might have told Chris. Who probably told Victor. Er. Sorry.”

“Phichit…”

“What was I supposed to do, lie?”

Yuuri watches as Victor turns to hand Chris his drink, and — is he getting up to sing? Oh god, he is, he climbs the stage and stands behind the microphone and Yuuri suddenly realizes how much more visible he probably is from the small elevated DJ platform, and tries to collapse into the shadowy corner of the booth as much as possible.

Victor looks amazing as he stands tall and slim against the deep purple backdrop, lights reflecting from his hair and across the blue shirt that highlights those amazing eyes that pulled Yuuri in so many years ago. His body is still as gorgeous as it was when he was training, fit and muscular, and Yuuri can feel a flush creeping up his neck.

“Brave man, going this early in the night,” Phichit says, nodding sagely. “He really should wait until everyone is more drunk. I mean, I’ve seen this play out a few times, you know?”

Yuuri ignores him, instead watching the way the lights cast shadows across the hollows under Victor’s collar bones, a glimmer of sweat in the notch of his throat. Yuuri licks his lips.

Fuck. It’s only been a month since they met in that club, and Yuuri can feel the imprint of Victor’s fingers on his hips like it was five minutes ago. He shifts in his seat as the music starts, the crowd starting to yell and harass him as he stands behind the mic. Victor, ever the showman, takes it all in stride, bowing low and grinning as the DJ introduces him and a sharp, familiar, overly-processed synthesizer blares into the night.

Prince.

Yuuri shakes his head. _Prince_? Is he _serious?_

Victor executes a quick spin and grips the microphone to the delight of the crowd, and before Yuuri can remind himself to stop staring, Victor catches his eye from across the room and starts to sing, Yuuri pinned in place by that bright blue gaze.

“I’m not your woman, I’m not your man,” Victor croons, and his voice is decidedly not drunk, strong and clear, and even keeping up with the rapid-fire English lyrics. Phichit stares at Yuuri in amazement, all too aware of Victor’s past experiences with karaoke; usually drunk, usually off-key, and usually half-Russian. This is none of that. 

_I am something that you’ll never understand_

_I’d never hit you, I’ll never lie_

_And if you’re evil I’ll forgive you by and by._

 Victor throws Yuuri a wink, and Yuuri can feel his jaw drop. He’s … this is for him. This entire performance is engineered just for him, and he tosses back the last of his drink with a shudder and tries to focus on the lyrics, to distract himself from the heat seeping up his neck and over his cheeks. If there’s one thing Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki have always shared, it’s a weakness for a public performance. 

_‘Cause you_

_I would die for you, yeah_

_Darling if you want me to_

_You, I would die for you_

Victor even has the balls to point to Yuuri now, encouraging the crowd to sing along until the refrain of “I would die for you” is louder than the rest of the song. He can feel the staccato melody of the song in his chest, the heavy beat of the handclaps in the track leaving him mesmerized as Victor shimmies and makes love to the microphone, his entire body a vehicle for pleading seduction.

  _You’re just a sinner I am told_

_Be your fire when you’re cold_

_Make you happy when you’re sad_

_Make you good when you are bad_

 Bad.

 And Yuuri really had been bad, hadn’t he? Taken advantage of Victor’s weakness and hurt him with it, even as he’d pled for mercy, for forgiveness. God, what kind of person did that make him? He’d wanted to hurt, he’d wanted to make Victor feel even an ounce of what he’d felt to see Victor’s lips on another man’s mouth, and instead he left himself a hollow shell, an open space ready for regret to seep in.

 Yuuri can feel his throat tighten. In the month since they met the fire of Yuuri’s fury has died out. He realizes that Victor was telling him the truth, that his sloppy and half-missed kiss with another man was a stupid drunken mistake that he immediately regretted. That it meant nothing to him, that he was sincere when he said that Yuuri was the only one he’d ever loved. And Yuuri can admit that he misses Victor. Misses his bright laugh and open smile. Misses the way he’d kiss Yuuri’s shoulder in the morning as the light snuck across the sheets, signaling the beginning of another day together.

 And even with all this, with the fights and accusations and hurt feelings and separation, watching Victor on that tiny, ridiculous stage singing his heart out, making a complete spectacle of himself all in the name of sending Yuuri a message he can’t ignore: well. It would take a harder man than Yuuri to be able to ignore the pull of his heart any longer.

  _I’m not human_

_I’m a dove_

_I’m your conscience_

_I am love_

_All I really need is to know_

_That you believe_

Yuuri can see the pleading in Victor’s eyes now, the way his mouth shapes around the last line, delivering his final message. The crowd is really into it now, chants of “I would die for you” continuing long after Victor smiles and nods and jumps off of the platform and threads his way through the crowd, people slapping him on the back or trying to get pictures.

 “He’s coming over here, Yuuri, oh my god, I’m going to bail.” Phichit stands up quickly and almost dumps his drink. “Call me later, tell me _everything._ ”

Yuuri waves him off “Fine, okay, _bye_ ,” he says, nerves making his hands tremble as Victor gets ever closer until he finally stands in front of Yuuri, hand held out in invitation.

“Yes?” he says.

Yuuri breathes for the space of a heartbeat, staring at a life-changing decision made flesh in the form of Victor’s outstretched hand.

“Yes,” he says, and takes hold.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

It isn’t a second after his hotel door closes that Victor is on him, teeth a delicate edge on Yuuri’s neck and hands on his ass.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, _zvezda_ ,” Victor growls against his skin. “I know I fucked up. Please, let me make it up to you. Let me _worship_ you.” Victor slides to his knees, arms around Yuuri’s waist, and Yuuri sucks in a deep breath.  Victor’s eyes glitter in the faint light from the open window, his expression open and pleading and so, so beautiful. Yuuri is so far past offering forgiveness now, so deep into missing Victor he can’t sleep, and his pride may have kept him going but it can’t keep him warm, not like Victor’s arms around him in the middle of the night, like his sunny laugh ringing across the rink.

“God, _please_ , Victor,” Yuuri begs, and Victor leaps to his feet, snags Yuuri around the thighs and lifts him until Yuuri must wrap his legs around Victor’s waist and be carried or risk a fall. Victor spins quickly and strides toward the bed, where he unceremoniously dumps Yuuri on his back and crawls over him before Yuuri can even catch his breath. 

Yuuri can feel his legs part, his body trying to fit the curve of Victor’s hips as Victor descends to take his mouth in a deep kiss. Yuuri gasps at the suddenness of it and tries to wind his arms around Victor’s neck, to give back as much as he can into a kiss so deep and so sinfully sweet he’s dizzy just from the feel of Victor’s mouth on his.

“My Yuuri,” Victor whispers against his lips. “I’m sorry.” Yuuri shivers as Victor’s lips trail fire down his neck, inching his shirt collar to the side until he can fit his mouth over Yuuri’s collarbone and suck, hard. He’s definitely going to have a mark there but he doesn’t care, the pressure and heat are so good, so blazingly arousing, Yuuri can’t help but arch into it.

Victor chuckles as he lets go. “I remember, my love. I remember how you like it.”

Yuuri slips a hand up the front of Victor’s shirt and tweaks a nipple, making Victor gasp. “I remember how you like it too,” he says, and can feel a smirk on his face for a moment before it falls. “Vitya, I remember everything.”

Victor stops and pulls one of Yuuri’s hands from behind his neck and kisses the inside of his wrist gently, reverently. “I never forgot. I love you, Yuuri. That never changed.”

Yuuri swallows past the lump in his throat, past the guilt of his own actions. “Even now?”

“Especially now.” Victor shifts until he settles in between Yuuri’s thighs. He’s hard, and Yuuri quakes. “Be with me. Not just tonight. Forever.”

Yuuri can’t answer him, can only kiss Victor hard, pressing his body to Victor’s in a way that steadies his nerves, keeps him from shaking apart at the seams. Victor seems content for the moment to follow his lead, pulling away only to press kisses to Yuuri’s cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his chin, until Yuuri catches Victor’s bottom lip and sucks on it, making Victor moan.

“Clothes,” he gasps, and kneels up between the vee of Yuuri’s thighs. Yuuri nods and slips out of his shirt, watching avidly as Victor’s gorgeous abs and chest come into view, the hollows and planes of his body picked out in streetlights and shadow. Yuuri has never met a man as attractive as Victor, never before and never since.  Never felt the jolt in his stomach from nothing more than a glance from another man, never felt the burn of arousal low in his belly from a single touch. As Victor smirks at Yuuri’s obvious admiration and slides open his belt, Yuuri realizes he should have known that his little attempt at revenge wouldn’t have been the last time, that Victor Nikiforov is branded into him, body and soul, and he’d never be free of him.

Yuuri reaches up and helps Victor’s hands part the fly of his pants, fingertips dragging over the waistband of Victor’s briefs. Victor hisses at the contact and it makes Yuuri bolder; he slips his fingers inside and pulls the front of Victor’s briefs down until his cock is free. Yuuri licks his lips.

“I’m supposed to worship _you_ ,” Victor says, breathless, as Yuuri slides down further between Victor’s legs, until Victor’s cock is right above his mouth.

“Then you can start by being a good boy and feeding me,” Yuuri says, and opens his mouth. Victor knows he loves this, so why the hesitation? Maybe he needs a push. Yuuri looks up and catches his eye. “You know what I want, Victor, so give it to me.”

“Oh God, yes, okay.” Victor kicks his pants and underwear off and kneels across Yuuri’s bare chest, balls brushing Yuuri’s skin, before he falls forward onto his hands. His cock drags across Yuuri’s mouth and Yuuri relishes it, the soft head pressing against his lips until he sneaks his tongue out to get a taste of the fluid leaking from the slit. Victor bucks and the pressure of his cock forces Yuuri to open his mouth and take it in, the width stretching his lips and skin salty sweet on his tongue. He sucks just a tiny bit, barely a second, and Victor’s body tenses.

“I’m not going to last long if you insist on doing this,” Victor says, and Yuuri can feel the trembling in his thighs. “You’re too good at it.”

Yuuri just winks. He is good at sucking dick, but what he’s best at is letting Victor use his mouth as he pleases, at relaxing and savoring and being claimed. That’s what he wants now, wants to feel Victor’s desire in the thrust of his hips, wants Victor’s need for him left in a bruised throat and reddened lips. Wants it to be apparent to anyone who looks that Victor is his, and to keep their hands off.

Yuuri puts his hands on Victor’s ass and encourages him forward, to push his way into Yuuri’s mouth until Yuuri has to swallow and breathe around the pressure in his throat.

Victor threads a hand into Yuuri’s hair. “Yes, Yuuri. So good. Take it all for me, _zvezda_. All of it.” Yuuri blinks and nods and Victor pulls out and thrusts back in, finding a good rhythm that Yuuri sinks into, the sound of Victors muttered curses and the shift of their bodies in the sheets blending into white noise that narrows Yuuri’s focus to one thing: The pressure of Victor’s cock in his mouth and the weight of him on Yuuri’s chest. He can feel himself growing harder as Victor fucks his mouth relentlessly, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and his hand aching to reach down and relieve himself.

“So close, Yuuri. I’m so close to coming. In your mouth? Is that what you want?”

Yuuri nods frantically and squeezes Victor’s thigh.   

“Then give me your fingers, please, I need…” Victor pants, and Yuuri works a hand back behind Victor’s balls until he can feel the furl of his hole. Yuuri presses a fingertip against it and can feel Victor relax until Yuuri can work it in just a little, just enough to let him feel the stretch, his body suspended between the heat of Yuuri’s mouth and the burn in his ass.

“Perfect, yes, keep doing that, I’m coming—“ he says, and Yuuri takes Victor’s come on his tongue, down his throat, swallowing as Victor shivers above Yuuri’s body, gasping.

Victor pants as Yuuri lovingly licks him clean, savoring the weight of Victor’s cock in his mouth. Yuuri sighs, satisfied, and finally gives in to his own simmering desire. He slips his hand from Victor’s ass and palms himself languidly, fully prepared to jerk himself off as Victor recovers.

“No,” Victor says, breaking into this thoughts, voice rough with desire. “I want that.”

Yuuri stills. “What do you want?”

Yuuri watches, breathless, as Victor slips backward and starts to tug on Yuuri’s belt, his pants, flicking the buttons open to drag Yuuri’s clothes off of his hips and down his thighs.  He can feel himself grow hot, knowing a flush is spreading under Victor’s ravenous gaze.

“I want this,” Victor says, and gently takes Yuuri’s cock in hand and strokes. Yuuri drops his head back against the bed and bites his lip, the pressure of Victor’s hand both a relief and a torture. “I want you inside me. Please.”

Yuuri can’t help it, he can feel his mouth drop open. “What? But you just…”

Victor climbs over him and straddles his hips, settling across Yuuri’s body with Yuuri’s cock pressed hard under his ass. He rolls his hips slightly, and Yuuri sees stars.

“You’ve got lube, yes?”

Yuuri is sure his brain has completely liquefied and is about to seep out of his ears, because all he can do is nod and point to his bag lying on the floor next to the bed. Victor leans over and roots around until he comes up with the bottle and pours some out onto his fingers.

“Don’t be gentle,” he says, and strokes down Yuuri’s cock, slicking the skin and making it glisten. “I want to feel it all.”

Yuuri grips his thighs, sinks his fingers into the taut muscle and soft skin. Victor lifts up just enough to position Yuuri at his entrance and slowly, carefully slide down, using Yuuri’s cock to stretch himself as he goes.

“Fuck,” Yuuri hisses, the heat of Victor’s body scorching him from the inside out. He has to hold perfectly still to let Victor accomplish this ridiculous feat of balance and control, and he’s fighting himself to not just fuck into his body, slam into him and take him, claim him, bury himself in Victor’s tight heat until he’s merged with him body and soul.

“Victor, Vitya, _please_ ,” Yuuri begs and pulls his hips back ever so slightly, making Victor chase him and slide down ever further. “All the way, please, I need to _move_.”

Victor sighs and rocks his hips again until his ass finally settles against Yuri’s thighs before he lifts off again, poised and waiting, Yuuri partially pulled out and wondering what Victor wants him to do next.

“Meet me half way,” Victor says, and drops down. Yuuri catches his meaning immediately and thanks God and every  conditioning coach he’s ever had as he uses his thigh muscles to lift himself as Victor rocks down, their bodies colliding with a snap and Yuuri carrying Victor’s weight on his lap.

Victor gasps and moans, breath coming hard and fast. “God, Yuuri, fuck me like you mean it,” he growls, and grinds down every time their bodies meet. “Oh, fuck yes. _Yes.”_

Victor’s eyes are screwed shut, his mouth open in pleasure, and Yuuri is sure his fingers will ache with how hard he’s gripping Victor’s hips, but he fights the burn in his thighs to fuck up into Victor’s body until he can feel the tight grip of an orgasm wrapped low in his belly.

“I’m close, so close. Victor, please, inside. Let me come inside.” Yuuri fights to lean up on his elbows so he can bring Victor closer to him, tilt his head and kiss Victor the way he wants, like the intersection of their bodies marks the beginning of forever. Yuuri thrusts up one more time and his orgasm overtakes him, leaving him shaking and shivering, his body exhausted and wrung out from the force of Victor’s passion.

Victor looks the same and he rocks down one more time, watching Yuuri with a satisfied grin as Yuuri yelps at the overstimulation. He then pulls off and darts for the bathroom, disappearing behind the door a moment before he comes back with a warm washcloth to carefully clean Yuuri up. He pitches it on the floor, to Yuuri’s consternation, before curling comfortably into Yuuri’s side, his head pillowed on Yuuri’s arm.

It’s quiet for a few moments, both of them trying to catch their breath and Yuuri trying not to grin like an idiot when he catches Victor looking at him from less than three inches away.

Victor smiles and brushes Yuuri’s bangs off of his forehead. “I mean it, you know,” he says quietly. “I’d die for you. I’d do anything. I’m so, so sorry about everything. I screwed up so badly, but can we try again? I promise, there’s no one else for me, not ever.”

Yuuri nuzzles into Victor’s palm and kisses it. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says. “I wanted to make you feel as badly as I did, but it really didn’t work out that way. I’m here, Victor. As long as you’ll have me.”

Victor smiles and leans forward to press a kiss, sweet and tender, to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth. “Forever, then.”

Yuuri looks at Victor’s gorgeous smile, his heart so full he thinks it could burst. “I believe you,” he says, and kisses him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Prince's I Would Die 4 U from Purple Rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDWHHHD9LLU) If you're not a Prince fan, what is wrong with you? You're missing out, seriously. <3


End file.
